I'm Ryn, and I'm a person with diabetes.
I was diagnosed in January of 2016 after being admitted to A&E with diabetic ketoacidosis. Well, I was unofficially diagnosed during triage when the nurse said 'How long have you been out of control with your diabetes?'
'I'm sorry, my what?'
'YOUR DIABETES.'
'Yes, ma'am, I heard you, but I'm not diabetic.'
'No, you definitely are. Okay, go sit out in the waiting area until someone calls you.'
I was so exhausted that I couldn't even process what was going on. My husband was waiting out there and I remember saying to him 'I think things are about to change.'
I had NO idea.
I had been diagnosed with PCOS (Poly-cystic ovarian syndrome) a few years before and it was pretty well documented that it tends to be co-morbid with Type 2 Diabetes. So, I figured that was what happened. I ran the clock down on my non-T2D life and I was just going to have to get used to the stomach upset of Metformin and cut back on the occasional cake and chips.
Once I was admitted into A&E, there was a lot of blood drawn, more IV connectors than I expected (my forearms felt like squids with their little IV related tentacles) and people were busting ass. The doctors, the nurses... Hell, even the orderlies.
I remember posting this to Facebook once I had a connection (my mother freaked out):
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| "This was my Thursday." |
And I still didn't quite understand what was going on. I mean, sure, T2D comes with the possibility of complications, but I'd only been tired, occasionally short of breath, drinking carbonated water because my mouth hurt, and pissing like a racehorse, but surely I'd be sorted and out in a day, maybe two, tops.
The doctor came up to me and said 'Okay, so you have diabetes.' I looked at him and said, 'yeah, the triage nurse kinda stole your thunder on that one, doc.'
'You have type 1 diabetes.'
'No, that's diagnosed in kids. I'm not a kid. I've aged out of that one.'
'I have bad news for you, then. There's no age limit on type 1. You're in diabetic ketoacidosis. Your blood has turned acidic. Your body is unable to clear the ketones being produced.'
'Surely that happens in people with type 2?'
'Not unless they've had a physical trauma to their pancreas. Have you been in a car accident or any sort of severe accident lately?'
'No.'
'Yer a diabetic, Harry!'
It was at this point I decided I liked this doctor and I wanted to keep him in my pocket.
And all of a sudden, I was a hospital celebrity! Student doctors were coming around to see me! They wanted to feel up my liver! I was asked questions about drug use and personal history and who else in my family had T1D (no one, I'm super special)...
The only thing I remember asking was 'So, will I be out by tomorrow? I have tickets to see Cirque.'
Spoiler: I was not out by tomorrow.
The next three days were spent being hooked up to everything but a ventilator and a catheter. Every drop in and out was measured. I had insulin going in one arm, glucose going in the other, a blood pressure cuff that woke me up every 15 minutes and heart monitors that were stickier than a toddler's fingers.
Five days, all told. And on the last day, I got 30 minutes with a diabetic specialist nurse, a goody bag of insulin and needles and a blood glucose monitor, a few pamphlets, and sent home.
I had no idea how much everything would change. How it was possible to be grateful to be alive and so angry at my body failing me. And how much I would have to learn on my own.
I also couldn't imagine being able to cope with this if it weren't for the amazing online community of people with diabetes.
So what's this blog going to be about? I'm not sure yet. Is there room for another T1D blog? Maybe. Why am I doing it?
Because the one thing I have found most important since my diagnosis is knowing that I am not alone.
And neither are you.
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